A Foreigner In Ouran
by Fey Nim
Summary: "She didn't like this school. She didn't like this country. And she certainly didn't like the uniform... she felt like a walking, talking, Christmas present that wears Doc Martins." Rated M for Language. A/N Now added to the end of the chapter!


'Rich bastards...'

Such were my thoughts as I marched my way through the halls of the school. Halls that I swear glitter for all the ridiculously expensive decorations that lined the corridors. No wonder the tuition was so expensive; the administration was probably still paying off their debt for all the state-of-the-art paintings and shinies that caused one to blink from blindness when walking into the entrance hall.

I didn't like this school. I didn't like this country. And I certainly didn't like the uniform. I had heard of private schools that require the female attendees to wear skirts, sure. But not _this_. This... monstrosity of a dress that's pale yellow, of all colours, and cinched around the waist, making it hard to breath. And to make matters worse, there's a bow. I feel like a walking, talking, Christmas present that wears Doc Martins.

Don't get me started on the people who wear said uniform. Rich giggling gaggles of girls, the lot of them. I had once seen throngs of pre-adolescent girls back home teeming around a hotel that some famous boy-band was staying at, but they didn't hold a candle to the reactions I saw some of these 'ladies' display when faced with a good looking man. I hope it's not contagious.

But I digress.

Regardless of the fact that it's mandatory to attend all classes, it's definitely not against the rules to look for a place that's away from the main student population after class hours. And a nice, quiet place was exactly what I needed after a day like I'd had. No mingling allowed.

I honestly hadn't been in this region of the school before; my classes focused around the sciences. But I could still enjoy the beauty of music when in the mood, and if I could find a piano or violin to focus my mind on then a nuclear meltdown of the mental scale would be avoided.

'Third Music Room'

I didn't know anything about a "third", considering I hadn't walked by a "first" or a "second". Whatever.

I turned the doorknob and opened the door as quietly as possible; no reason to go stomping into a possible band practice, no matter how on the verge of tears I was.

...

...

...

And stopped. And stared.

There was no band practice. There weren't even any instruments beyond a piano and a harp off in the corner. Instead there were couches. And coffee tables. And tea sets. And people.

"Welcome!"

A young man pranced – yes, it was a prance – up to me and bowed low. The charm this guy exuded like a second skin was a bit scary. His exclamation caught the attention of others, and next thing I knew I was nearly surrounded by four men.

"Ah, Princess! You grace us with your presence! You put all others to shame!"

"Looks like he's going to scare her away before she even gets in the door." Two redheads – or was it one redhead walking around with a mirror? But no, there were two voices – said to one another.

"Maa maa, Tama-chan! We should invite her inside for cake!"

"Ah."

"Tamaki-senpai, you're customers have been left with their tea." I don't know if I had time to blink before another boy came between them all and smoothly pushed them away.

"Ladies! Forgive a man when faced with a damsel in distress! I could not in good conscience have left her adrift once she had entered this haven of peace!"

As if some sort of signal had been given, the other boys bowed and went back to their couches where, I could now see, groups of girls were sitting and... were they eating crumpets?

"Please forgive Tamaki-senpai and the others, they're always overenthusiastic when a new person comes through the doors." The boy seemed to playfully grimace at me, and gestured for me to follow.

Once sitting down in a chair placed at an unoccupied table, I forcefully relaxed my clenched fingers that I hadn't realized were twisted into the fabric of my dress. Swallowing, I glanced around.

"Isn't this supposed to be a music room?"

The boy nodded as he gracefully poured tea into a pair of delicate china teacups from the tea set that seemed to have come out of nowhere. "It technically is. Sometimes Tamaki-senpai will play the piano for customers, but this was the only unused room in the school empty and big enough for club activities." He placed the teacup in front of me and sat down with his own tea in front of him, "Ah, sorry. My name is Fujioka Haruhi. I hope the tea is to your liking. Pleased to meet you."

Not knowing what else to say, I took a sip. Bleck. If I was going to have to politely sit here and keep my tears bottled up, would it be too much to ask for some milk and sugar? He better not expect conversation; my throat hurt too much to think of speaking any more.

But he didn't ask anything else. Rather, he talked.

If given a quiz on what he spoke about, I surely would have failed. But at the time I would have sworn to kingdom come that it was the most wonderful distraction I could ever have hoped for. The topics ranged over a span of subjects, and each one caught my attention like a starving man smelling food. Maybe I was starving. Starving for something to cloud my mind, if only for a little while, from the reason why I had been looking for a quiet, empty room to either play music or sob where no one could hear me.

No one came to the table while we – or rather, he – spoke. Save for pauses in which he took a sip of his own tea, he didn't stop his monologue. I couldn't bring myself to take another sip of the bitter liquid, but I don't think he minded, since my stare made it obvious I was busy listening to him.

It wasn't until I noticed that it was getting dark outside that I realized how long I'd been there. I snapped out of my listening haze, and looking around I saw not a flutter of skirts anywhere. The other men were settled around the conference table at the other end of the room, talking quietly, and the tea sets were cleared away.

Turning back to Haruhi, who had noticed my lack of attention and stopped speaking, I pushed my chair back as quietly as possible in the almost silent room.

"Thank you for letting me drink tea with you, Fujioka-san." Drinking tea wasn't what I was thanking him for.

But all he did was rise himself and smile a smile that seemed different from the one I had been greeted with.

"The pleasure was all mine, Princess."

Making sure my dress wasn't stuck to my legs surreptitiously, I made my way to the door. But before I exited the room, I turned back around and bowed to Haruhi, then turned and bowed to the group around the conference table that had cut their conversation short when I stood up.

"Thank you for taking care of me," I managed to force through my tight throat.

And with that, I turned and left. I might have entered the room with burning eyes, but when I left I realized they burned for a different reason.

* * *

So... yeah. I noticed after I posted this that I had no A/N, no nothing for people to read once they'd read this. But it was after midnight and I was high on the fact that I'd actually WRITTEN somethi- scratch that, that I'd actually POSTED something that I'd written on here. And I had no clue how to edit after posting, and so I added something to my profile to act as an A/N, but just in case no one thinks to go over there, wondering who this no name author is, I'm copy/pasting it here. Begin screening of my thought process at 12AM... NOW!

THIS MORNING:

So... I just posted a spontaneous chapter for a (multi-chapter, one-shot?) story for Ouran, which was honestly not the first fandom I ever thought I'd write for. But I just finished watching the Live Action movie tonight... and for the first time I felt a story actually wanting to be written! And, and, next thing I knew, it's midnight and I've written more than 1000 words and I didn't put an author's note in the chapter cause I didn't think to and now it's out there and there's NO NOTHING for people to see how ABSOLUTELY CRAZY I feel right now for actually posting it and I really really really want people to know that I would LOVE to hear what they say about my first published (it's on the internet, but in today's world, some people would consider that published) chapter! SO! If you've read it, and wonder why there's no AN from this nobody author who's never written anything before but has a fav. story list of 200 stories, consider THIS the AN that should have been at the beginning (or end?) of the story!


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